Animals
by gschelt
Summary: Two animals, one kill. Thirteen is the predator, and Cameron is the prey. strong themes of femslash and rape.


_**Author's Note:** When I sat down to my desk in my Religion class, I had no idea that the story I was about to write from numbing in-class boredom was going to end up the way it did. This story is dark, even for me, who can't write a fic without making my characters misunderstood and tragic. There is definitely a theme of rape underlying this story, which I had not originally counted on. Though I must say, in a way it does fascinate me; I had been wanting to make Thirteen extremely dominant for a long time now... and boy, did I get it. Anyway, this was a random piece that I wrote outside of my writing plan, without much thought, and I find it quite intriguing. Please read and review, thank you. _

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My breath mists on her neck and my parted mouth twists upward into the slightest smile. I make no move yet, just painting vapor on her skin; teasing and tasting. Her wrists twitch but I grip them tighter and press them harder against the wall. She's straining to get away; neck stretched and shoulders twisting, but I have her pinned there with my body.

I have control.

Her eyes are shut and her lips tremble. I can feel her sucking in her abdomen as far as possible, trying to shrink away from my body; I push my waist against hers, delighting in making her squirm.

She hasn't said a word except for the initial "What are you doing-" which I had cut off by slamming her against the wall. Now… now she looks scared and vulnerable and she tastes like prey. My smile curls further as I slowly slide my tongue up her pale skin.

She shivers and starts to move but I grind her wrists into the wall.

"Sit still," I growl, my lips feathering her ear. She obeys.

I travel down her bare throat and ghost my tongue along her collarbone. Her breathing echoes in my ears, quick and shallow, and my arousal steepens.

I push against her delicate body with renewed energy and slowly, methodically, slip my right hand between us. Her beautiful porcelain face is drawn and vivid as her jaw quivers. I pluck at her scrub bottoms and my fingers slither into her lingerie.

With this, she begins to struggle afresh. "Stop," she chokes, trying to wrestle herself free. "Thirteen, let me go."

"Shut up," I hiss, slamming her back again and pressing her clit hard, all in one sharp and sudden motion. She gasps and stiffens up against the wall, her neck arched back and her eyes flying open to the ceiling. I begin to grind my thumb in a slow, merciless rhythm; her open mouth contorts as she struggles to swallow.

As I'm massaging her harder and faster, I bury my chin in her collarbone, nipping at the exposed flesh on her shoulder. A light sheen of sweat breaks out on her skin as her breathing grows more labored and her resistance weakens; I savor the musk, hungrily inhaling the raw animal scent of dominance, fear, and lust.

She begins to twist her body again, but this time I know she's not trying to break free. Her face is a mask of tortured ecstasy and her mouth is working up and down like she's gulping down water… she's close to coming.

Quickly, roughly, I raise my other slender hand and clamp it over her mouth. Both her hands are free now, but even if she had it in her to fight against me, I'm still crushing her against the wall.

Besides, she's not going anywhere. Her orgasm is a leash wrapped tight around my savage fingers.

Her entire body stiffens from head to toe, and I press down on her mouth forcefully, ready for the sound waves rippling through her throat. She crests, stifled, into both my hands; I immediately jam my thumb hard on her clit and her first orgasm is cut off by another. Again and again I repeat my vicious motion, bringing wave after wave of spasms wracking her body; the palm of my left hand is moist from the desperate sounds I'm stifling from her lips.

Finally, I relent. I release her mouth and she sucks in a grateful gulp of air, collapsing against the wall. But before she can catch her breath properly, I plunge the middle finger of my right hand inside her, hissing through my teeth in sharp inhalation. She gasps, eyes fluttering open, and moves against me, but I clench her wrist once again and force it against the wall, jarring her roughly.

"Shhh," I whisper, gently withdrawing my finger and sliding my hand out of her waistband, "Easy." She stares at me with cautious, lucid blue eyes as her lips tremble helplessly. I wonder if she's already trying to block out or forget what has just happened, or if she's waiting fearfully for me to make my next move. Neither possibility matters; my lips gradually curl into a smile.

Slowly, deliberately, I lift my right hand up close to her face. My middle finger glistens from her moisture; I think, amused, that she's lucky I keep my fingernails trimmed. Her eyes widen as I bring my fingers to her lips and lick my own in anticipation. She looks so startled and lifelike, chest heaving like a frightened rabbit's, that I just want to fuck her again and this time _let_ her cry out like a trapped animal. But I don't. There is only one last thing I need from her.

"Here," I purr, gently grazing my middle finger across her lips. It glides like silk and she begins to shudder.

"Clean it off," I command softly. She does nothing, merely quaking and slowly flushing red.

"Do it," I whisper a bit more firmly, twisting her wrist. She grimaces in pain and dread, gazing at me with pleading eyes. I am unfazed; I lick my lips hungrily and stare her down pitilessly.

After seven seconds she breaks.

She lowers her eyes from mine, breathing unevenly. Her eyes have that hopeless cast to them that would suggest she is about to start crying, but she doesn't. She leans her head forward tentatively and catches my finger in her mouth, and begins to suck on it.

Her eyes are squeezed shut from what must be shame; I'm enjoying every moment of it.

After thirty seconds of cruel pleasure, I decide to end this episode. I take back my finger, wipe it dry on my white lab coat, release her, and walk to the door. She's still standing wilted against the far wall of the examination room, watching me, as I twist the handle to go. I turn back and give her a Cheshire-Cat grin.

"Not a word, Allison."


End file.
